


Are We/We Are

by gemjam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Hurt/Comfort, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: Set at the end of Season 4.-On his return from Mexico, Stiles craves reassurance from the one person who always gives it to him.





	Are We/We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavenderlotion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/gifts).



> Birthday fic for Lav!
> 
> For the Kinktober prompt _incest._

Stiles has given up on trying to get any of the deputies to uncuff him, mostly because they all know better than to get involved with anything between he and his dad. He slumps further into the chair, hungry and miserable and maybe a tiny bit turned on.

They’ve never played with the handcuffs before. He’s never dared to ask. He guesses they mean something different to his dad who has to use them on unsavoury characters every day. Stiles has been attracted to their shininess since he was a kid, grabbing for them on his dad’s belt. As he got older, he began to see their potential for something else. Maybe he just watches too much cop porn.

He looks down at his wrist now, wrapped in that shiny metal he’s always craved one way or another, the other loop connecting him to his father’s desk. It feels like there’s something so intimate about it and it softens him, even though he’s still mad and a little bit indignant that his dad left him here and went to answer a damn noise complaint. He doesn’t think he deserves a punishment for saving his friend’s life. He knows that his dad was just worried about him though. This is out of love. It’s all out of love. They figured that out a long time ago.

He hears his dad’s voice out in the pen and sits up straighter, looking towards the door. John appears, chatting to a deputy on the other side of the window. Stiles jiggles his leg up and down, disbelieving at the fact that his father isn’t coming to his immediate aid. He’s been patient, through necessity if nothing else, but he is so done now. In every way possible. He just wants his daddy to take him home.

John turns, finally coming into the room. “You’re still here,” he says with mock wonder, closing the door behind himself.

Stiles just lifts his cuffed wrist and gives him an irritated glare. John smiles, the soft kind that crinkles his eyes. He moves closer, taking out his keys. As he leans over Stiles to get to the cuff, Stiles instinctively leans closer to him, breathing him in. When he gets a whiff of something, he starts to sniff harder.

“You’ve been eating fried food,” he accuses.

John pulls back to give him a look. “Are you aware that you’re not a werewolf?”

“You’re…”

“Not supposed to eat fried food,” John finishes for him wearily. “But the thing is, I have this son who participates in heart attack inducing behaviour on a near daily basis, so I think I’ll take my chances with the curly fries.”

Stiles pouts, slumping back. “And you didn’t even bring me any? I’m starving. I just drove all the way back from Mexico.”

“And whose fault is that?” John asks pointedly.

Stiles rolls his eyes but looks away. He knows when he’s beaten. John leans back down, fingers sliding around Stiles’ wrist, lifting it gently. He shifts forward, knee pressing against the inside of Stiles’ thigh, making him fight back a shiver. He looks at his dad, considering the tenderness of his actions, the intimacy of it.

“Is this foreplay?” he asks.

John looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Does it turn you on?”

Stiles feels himself blush, staring into his dad’s eyes. He’s almost brave enough to ask if they can take the handcuffs home, to bed with them. Almost. His dad snorts a laugh, unlocking him in one quick motion, proving that he could have done all along. He’s drawing it out though. He’s making it sensuous. Stiles’ tongue flicks out to wet his lips as his dad takes a step back, hand coming up to grab Stiles by the back of his neck, pulling him to his feet.

“Let’s get you home.”

He walks him through the Station like that, not caring that everyone can see him manhandling his son. It’s a sight they’re used to. Not one of them knows what it really means. As they approach his dad’s car in the parking lot, John lets go with a little shove towards the passenger door. So he’s leaving his jeep here tonight. He steps up to the door, already missing that firm, guiding touch, but it’s easily forgotten when he opens the door and finds a bag of food from the fast food place on his seat, the smell of it filling the car.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” He climbs into the car, ripping open the bag to look inside, his mouth already watering.

“Eat that before we get home,” John tells him. “Then we’re getting straight in the shower. Wash whatever the hell is on you, off you.”

Stiles looks at him, the images already running through his mind, giddy with anticipation. He leans across the seats, placing a clumsy kiss on his dad’s cheek. “I love you, daddy.”

“You will be the death of me,” John mutters, starting the car.

Stiles just grins, digging into his food. It’s not a challenge to finish it all before they get home. He’s so hungry and it tastes so good, drinking down the last of his soda as they pull into the driveway, feeling pleasantly sated. Nobody died tonight. Not even the ones who should have done. He tries to take solace in that fact. At least the bad guys aren’t going to be their problem for a while. He hopes.

“Go upstairs and get started,” John says as they go inside. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“When you say get started…” Stiles begins, walking backwards towards the stairs to keep his eyes on his dad.

“Have a wash,” John says, giving him a look. “I’ll start anything else that needs starting.”

Stiles grins. “Yes, sir.”

He jogs up the stairs, already pulling his shirt over his head. He turns on the shower, letting it warm up as he finishes stripping, leaving the bathroom door open. As he steps under the warm water, the relief is immediate and he hadn’t realised just how uncomfortable he was. It starts to ebb away now though, his muscles relaxing as the last 48 hours are finally washed away.

He drops his head forward, bracing himself on the wall, a groan escaping him as the water runs down the back of his neck. He flails as he feels hands on his hips, opening his eyes and blinking away the water to see his dad standing in front of him. He sags, his heartbeat levelling out. His dad gives him a look, reaching for the shampoo.

“Turn back around.”

He does as he’s told, letting his dad lather up his hair, fingertips rubbing against his skull just right. He groans again, his entire body reacting to the stimulus. He closes his eyes, bowing down his head once more and letting his dad rub the suds into every inch of his head before he guides him forward and rinses him clean. He stays pliant as his dad washes his body, his back first, down over his ass, between his cheeks as Stiles presses back with a moan. It’s ignored as the soap slides down over his legs and then he’s turned, staring hazily at his dad as he finishes cleaning him up.

His cock is hard and it’s difficult to ignore but his dad doesn’t react to it until he’s finished with the task in hand, doesn’t even acknowledge it until he’s wrapping soapy fingers around Stiles’ cock, squeezing and pulling and making him shudder. Stiles gives a needy noise and his dad presses him back against the coolness of the tiles, which is a relief because his body feels like it’s on fire.

He’s not under the water here but the steam still wraps around him as his dad’s mouth presses against his own, his hand moving over Stiles’ dick. Stiles part his lips, with a moan and with purpose, lifting his head away from the wall and licking his way inside his dad’s mouth, tasting soda and curly fries and home. He lifts his hands, gripping hold of his dad’s shoulders, needing to know that he’s real, that this is real, that, in this moment at least, they’re all okay.

His dad’s other hand comes up to possessively cradle the side of his face in a way that never fails to make Stiles melt. When they’re in public, it’s a hand on the back of his neck. When they’re alone, it’s this, so much more tender and intimate. It gets to Stiles just as much as the expert hand on his dick does, touching him just right until he has to pull out of the kiss, shuddering and breathless.

He wants to wait, wants to take his time, wants to go back to his dad’s bed and get thoroughly fucked, but his body is done and he comes with a sob, a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion and a need that goes so much deeper than sex. He rests his forehead down on his dad’s shoulder, enveloped by his arms without even having to ask. John’s hard cock rubs against his hip and Stiles presses into it, biting down on his lip. His dad doesn’t stop him as he sinks down to his knees.

With the water falling down on him, he can’t really look up like he wants to, but the water feels good and the darkness feels good and his dad’s fingers in his hair make him moan around his dad’s cock in his mouth. He just sucks at first, a comforting action while he comes down from his own orgasm, just needing this closeness for a moment before he turns his attention fully to the task at hand.

The water dulls everything but he can still hear his dad’s moans as he tongues at the slit of his cock or hollows his cheeks as he takes him in as deep as he can. In the right position when he has full focus and determination, he can swallow him all the way, but today is not one of those days. His dad doesn’t seem like he needs it anyway, fingers tightening just enough in Stiles’ hair to let him know that he’s close. Stiles moans around him, encouraging, pleading, and his dad lets go, coming over his tongue, filling his senses, and for a moment, nothing else exists.

Stiles sucks and swallows and then finally lets his dad’s limp cock slide from his lips, sitting back to get out of the direct stream of water so that he can finally look up at him. The spray is like a halo around John’s head and his eyes are so soft, mirroring all of the vulnerability that Stiles feels. He’s safe here though. He’s safe.

His dad’s hand slides from his hair, caressing the side of his face. “I know,” he says quietly, yet somehow it doesn’t get lost in the water swirling down the drain. “If my knees weren’t shit, I’d get down there with you.”

Stiles grins and leans into his dad, hugging him tight around the waist, eyes shut firmly against the cascade of water. He clings to him and his dad touches his head, his shoulder, little reassurances that make all the difference in the world. When the water shuts off, Stiles frowns, looking up at his dad.

“Come on,” John says.

Stiles takes the offered hand, letting himself be pulled stiffly to his feet. He sways towards his dad, blinking stray droplets from his eyes.

“You okay, kiddo?” John asks.

Stiles sighs. “I’m just so tired.”

His dad nods. “How about we go lie down for a bit?”

Stiles smiles, letting his dad lead him from the shower and wrap him in a towel. He sits down on the edge of the tub as his dad leaves the room, coming back after a minute dressed in a clean T-shirt and boxers, holding out an extra set for Stiles. He dries himself, pulling them on, the material cool and fresh against his skin.

He takes the offered hand from his dad again, but this time it’s gentle and loving where it was practical before. His dad leads him through to his bedroom and Stiles is grateful for the sunlight streaming in the window. No more tombs. No more darkness. Just basking in sunshine and love.

His dad falls back on the bed and Stiles goes with him, lying on his side and resting his head on his dad’s chest, over his heartbeat. It’s solid and strong and his body is so warm. His dad cradles the back of his head, his other hand resting heavy on Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles can only hope the murmured out _love you, daddy_ is heard before he’s drifting off to sleep.


End file.
